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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481521">witty sad song title</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilstheater/pseuds/evilstheater'>evilstheater</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mr. Driller (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Trans Male Character, Transgender, Vent-fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 01:57:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481521</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilstheater/pseuds/evilstheater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>ataru struggles with dysphoria.</p><p>(tw for dysphoria/transphobia)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>witty sad song title</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ataru looked at the mirror.</p><p>He wasn’t sure if he was unhappy with his body, or if reality was bending to what he wanted to be. When it was just a quick glance, it wasn’t too bad. He actually liked how he looked sometimes -- his grey hair covering his eye looked cool, he loved his scarf, and his fashion sense wasn’t too bad. He could pass, he thought. He could be who he wanted.</p><p>Ataru found that his eyes were stuck on the mirror.</p><p>When he paid more attention to every detail on his body, he noticed the tiniest things that made him wonder if any of this was worth it. Despite binding, it wasn’t completely flat. Despite part of his face being covered, he thought it looked too feminine. Too many curves. His face was too round. He was too short. He could try to speak, but all that would come out would be high-pitched nonsense.</p><p>He didn’t want to think about what was under his clothes.</p><p>Ataru knew his mom loved him for who he was. So did George, and Wataru, and Susumu. He had friends and loved ones who helped him with picking new clothes, a new name, and anything he could ask for. At the moment, however, he could only think about the bad. It echoed in his thoughts, drowning him emotionally, making him powerless.</p><p>He remembered when he came out to Taizo. At first, he laughed. He thought it was a funny joke. When it settled in, he wasn’t upset, but there was something...off, Ataru felt. Too many slip ups. Too many eye-rolls. Too many sighs. The first few times, he tried to correct his father, only to be met with comments about how he needed to mourn the child he just lost.</p><p>Ataru wasn’t dead. He never died.</p><p>He thought about how easy it would be to run away, burn everything behind him, and go to a place so far away nobody would’ve heard of him. He’d be unknown. At his new location, he would love him for who he truly was. Too many people knew here. Too many people knew what he used to be. He didn’t want anyone to think about him. It would be so easy, he thought.</p><p>He couldn’t bother to cry anymore. The feeling of dysphoria bubbled in him didn’t even earn a tear.</p><p>Why did he do this? Why did he bother? He felt disgusting looking in the mirror, knowing he couldn’t ever be who he wanted. No matter how hard he tried, the future felt unattainable, what could be was impossible. He felt as if somewhere, somehow, someone would know and it wouldn’t even matter. Hours spent each morning dressing himself up, binding what couldn’t be covered otherwise, only to go in the streets and have everything fall apart.</p><p><br/>Ataru thought about swallowing it all and tell everyone he didn’t feel this way anymore. He was just a wuss, right? He was fine with everything before, right? It wasn’t that bad, right? It was made up in his head, right?</p><p>He thought about being called the things he wasn’t. He thought about trying to go back to how things were, where self-esteem issues ran rampant. He felt so disconnected, so separated from everyone around him. He thought about the pronouns, and he thought about the names, and the makeup, and the dresses, and he wanted to scream. He wanted to scream so loud his throat would go sore.</p><p>Oh, wait, that meant hearing his voice.</p><p>He walked away from the mirror, slamming the door behind him. One more glance, and he felt like he’d lose it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find it very hard to keep going so tried to project my own feelings</p></blockquote></div></div>
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